Star Dust
by thegirlwhowearsthedirtyshirt
Summary: After escaping slave traders at a terrible price, Jason must team up with the one person he trusts the least to make it back to Atlantis. But after a terrible betrayal and a witch's magic to escape from, it is Hercules and Ariadne that must defeat a witch, rescue their friends and save Atlantis.
1. Chapter 1

Star Dust

After escaping slave traders at a terrible price, Jason must team up with the one person he trusts the least to make it back to Atlantis. But after a terrible betrayal and a witch's magic to escape from, it is Hercules and Ariadne that must defeat a witch, rescue their friends and save Atlantis.

Notes

Set after 'The Grey Sisters' (season 2 episode 6) when Jason has met Medea but hasn't married Ariadne yet.

My first fan fiction in years and it's going to be a beast (50,000+ words). Originally written for NaNoWriMo in November 2014 and being uploaded now I've had time to edit it. Happy reading!

**"Remember this: Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny."**

**― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West**

**Part 1**

**Chapter 1**

Jason walked in the line with the others. His feet hurt, he knew he was dehydrated and all his muscles ached. But for all the pain and discomfort that he was feeling he knew that Pythagoras was feeling one hundred times worse. He knew that the younger man being kept standing behind him by the chains on his feet and chains around his hands was only just holding onto consciousness by the jolting movements of the slow march they were part of. He knew it was only time until the younger man lost the thin veil of consciousness and collapsed forward onto the sand taking himself and the man behind Pythagoras to the floor and earning five lashes a piece from their captors. Not that Pythagoras would be able to feel it, mused Jason; His back was so torn with thin lashes and bruised with the hits from the bat one of the viscous slavers carried, any feeling was impossible. Jason raised his eyes and looked into the distance and to the hazy line of the town he had landed in all those months ago. He couldn't believe that he was to return to the city he had made his home in chains.

Atlantis shined in the distance and Jason's thoughts turned to the princess of the city and whether she would help him, of whether Hercules had escaped and had not been killed in the attempt and of course whether Pythagoras would be able to make the last few miles home.

Jason wished he knew how much time had passed since the simple trip he, Pythagoras and Hercules had taken. That fateful trip that would have them in this desperate situation hadn't been extraordinary. It had been a simple movement of cargo from one of the Greco-cities and it shouldn't have taken that long. Pythagoras had protested about going saying that it was ridiculous for all of them to go. But like always the mathematician came along, worrying about Hercules and his bad habits. The trip was going well until they were ambushed. Jason could remember Pythagoras scream, men surrounded them and brandishing swords running at them. Hercules had pushed Pythagoras behind him and rushed for the nearest man, yelling and fighting. Another man had grabbed the smaller man and pulled him to his knees, sword at his throat. Jason had fought but had been hit hard on the side of the head and he too had been forced down to the ground. The last thing he remembered of the short fight was Pythagoras being suddenly surrounded and dragged from both him and Hercules.

Jason had no indication of the time that had passed between then and now. The days melted into one another, an endless parade of walking, beatings and constant worry about Pythagoras, and Jason wished it would end. It seemed that some deity, and being in Greece he could name a lot of gods both great and small, had heard his prayers when the slow wave of chained prisoners came to a halt. Screams from the slavers with their whips and jangling keys echoed through the valley they had stopped in and loudly called for a halt and for the prisoners to stand in a line to await inspection.

They had done this a few miles from every city they had been through. They would be separated, registered and taken to the city in groups. Men and women were separated. Then the men were separated into groups depending on what the traders thought they could be sold as. This usually consisted in being divided into men that would be farm workers, domestic slaves, army workers and then a group that Jason realised was for those whom they felt they couldn't sell at a high price or in some cases at all. These unfortunate men where then split up into three groups; one for the salt mines, of which Jason knew the life expectancy wasn't great, one for the gladiator areas where life expectancy was even lower and the last group was for the pleasure houses of the city. Though the last category had more women within it, Jason knew some men ended up this way as well.

Both cities before Atlantis, Jason and Pythagoras had not been put up for sale and remained with the caravan with other men but by the looks of things this time they weren't going to be so lucky.

One by one the people in the caravan were lined up and being put into those categories. Jason quickly pulled himself upright, he couldn't look weak, he had to make it to a proper audience for any hope of Hercules or Adriane to find and help him. He couldn't say the same for Pythagoras. The younger man as soon as a halt had been called had fallen to the floor, Jason couldn't get to him but even from this distance he could see that the mathematician had lost consciousness. His skin was ivory white even through the slight tan and bright red sun burning from the long march in the blistering sun and had a thin veil of sweat on his face and arms. The whip lashes had re-opened and opened fresh wounds on his back and the blood from them sluggishly fell down his back in a sticky sweaty mess. Grime and blood matted the blonde hair of the young man and on his forehead was a large yellowing bruise from where a guard had hit him. Jason was powerless to do anything as Pythagoras was unshackled and pulled from the line up by two large men who treated him with all the care that one would treat a large sack of potatoes.

Pythagoras was thrown on to his side and his head hit the rocks, like it was nothing but a piece of meat bouncing slightly and he was chained with his hands at his front and Jason watched fearfully as his friend was also chained by the ankles and lifted away from him.

"Stop! Please… take me with him!" Jason yelled pulling to get to his friend. But it didn't matter how much he yelled, screamed, called for his friend, begged, punched, fought or struggled Jason was soon restrained by three guards and led further away from his friend.

It was hopeless and Jason let himself receive four lashes and being pushed into the group with other similarly built men who were certain they were to be sold as farm workers. Despair crashed over Jason. He spent the rest of the evening imaging the hell that Pythagoras would be subjected to. He was too weak and sick to be sold as a domestic servant, he was too skinny to be a farm hand or work in the army; that only left the group which would mean certain death. Jason didn't cry. He was beyond tears. Beyond the knowledge that whatever destiny both he and the young mathematician had was never going to happen and the thought that maybe the future Jason had known wouldn't happen, and that frightened Jason. It frightened and confused him. Never had he foreseen this ending.

Evening drew on. It was cold in the desert at night and as the sun went below the horizon, fires were lit across the camp giving the scene a glow of the past. Jason had always marvelled over how the light of a small fire with proper wood and bright yellow to red flame could give the surroundings a feel of the past; of history. It made those stories of great Greek heroes that he dared ask Hercules or Pythagoras about just in case they hadn't become legend yet, seem very real. He could almost see the people in those stories such as Aeneas and Achilles sit around one of those fires awaiting for a battle or telling the story of their adventures to their followers. But since the baby Oedipus adventure, Jason had worried about revealing how much he knew about Greek legend. All those good feelings he had about camp fires however did not reach him this eve or penetrate his despair as he sat watching the flames. He looked into the flames and like an oracle he could see the future; Pythagoras in pain. Him screaming as rough tools cut into his bleeding hands, falling from exhaustion. Skinny and pale faced desperate to catch up with the work load; the young man falling desperately ill, dying alone and in pain, dehydrated and starved; Jason knew this was the fate that awaiting his friend. That was the moment that Jason realised he had to do something.

Rousing himself from these terrible thoughts Jason dragged himself up from the floor and put his brain on over things. If Pythagoras was dying then he couldn't let him die alone. Jason walked towards the tent where the slavers allowed the prisoners to get water. Jason had realised that even though they were cruel, it didn't make any sense for the merchandise, as he knew he was now, to be damaged this close to the city where they would be sold. So water was freely given and as Jason noted the queue he realised how grateful the other prisoners were for this reprieve.

Looking around he found that those in the camp free to walk around (with chains on their wrists) were only those who like Jason where to be sold. Where the unfortunate being such as Pythagoras had been taken he was unsure. Carefully he separated from the main group and as quietly as his chains would allow him he tried to blend into the background of the make shift tents and despondent prisoners. He moved slowly through the rows of tents as the light faded to a blue hue instead of the murky orange one of the fires. The temperature out here was noticeably colder without the heat of both people and the fires. He moved off slowly looking for signs of the other prisoners. He hadn't worked very far from the small group when the low mumbling couldn't be heard, or the glow from the small fires had completely faded leaving only the pale blue of the sky and the ghostly atmosphere that was upon this part of the camp. Jason was left with the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart which kept him on his path. It was so loud he was sure it would be heard by the captors.

Taking some deep breaths, Jason calmed himself as frustration hit him. He didn't know where to start, he had been going in circles he was sure of it. Looking about in the dark blue of the early night he started for the edge of the camp, fixated on the logical approach that he knew that Pythagoras would favour. That thought sent a pang of guilt through Jason, and determination started to burn more brightly within him.

It must have taken Jason an hour to search the entire camp and find his quarry as the sky was black and the stars shone brightly overhead. Jason checked the tents, the storage carts and avoided the sparse guards. He was very surprised his absence hadn't been noted but then he gathered that the valley was closed off; running wouldn't get you any further than either the middle of the desert or closer to Atlantis on which the slavers would capture the runaway as well. And if you had the energy to run, you would have the sense to stay and be sold off to a good owner and not sent to the mines. He had almost given up hope when he came to the last part of the camp where too storage carts where stationed. This part of the camp was in darkness but judging by the faint dancing of flames a small group of people were being held here. It was much colder here nearest to the desert and away from the larger fires. Jason moved closer and found that the two storage carts were modified from normal carts and filled with people.

There were bars on the carts and great iron bars indicating a door on the back of each. The two carts were larger than normal carts but they were both cramped with people. Jason quickly looked for captors before heading out into the open to have a closer look and hopefully find Pythagoras.

Almost as soon as Jason stepped into the open the desperate people in the cart started to reach out to him and call to him. The people contained in the tiny cage where in terrible condition. All were dirty and thin, all had large eyes washed with fear and the ones at the front of the cage reached out with skinny arms, skin ravaged with scars, welts and sores. The ones in the cage where devoid of chains around there wrists but their feet were chained to the bottom of the cage which was filthy with things Jason didn't want to think about. Through the darkness Jason looked in vain in the first cart for Pythagoras. But he couldn't see the young mathematician in the mass of poor people. The pleas from the desperate people got louder the closer Jason got and he saw in the cages where men, women and children all pushed together. He moved to the next cage and looked through the darkness for his friend. Soon he found himself answering the pleas with his own. "Have you seen my friend? Please… anyone please… have you seen him? Pythagoras? Please?"

After five minutes of getting nowhere Jason resigned himself. Pythagoras was lost possible dead, maybe that last blow to the head had killed him and his suffering was over. Jason hoped it was the case. He turned to leave. But so deep into his depression over not finding his friend and unable to help these poor people he didn't see the slavers until they were right on top of him. He was forced to the ground and a sword placed to his neck.

"Thought you would be a hero, boy?" The one with the sword said pushing it closer to his neck to emphasise the word 'boy' and causing Jason to anchor his head back more so he saw the stars above him.

"What should we do with him?" One of the slavers said as he held Jason's arm in place behind his back, standing over his legs in the kneeling position they had forced Jason into. The man got very close to Jason, so Jason could hear the malice in his voice and taste the wine on his breath. "We should kill him and make an example of what happens to deserters." The man pulled out a small dagger and pressed it close to Jason's face. "We should hang him, with slit wrists and watch as the blood drains out of him, use his corpse as a reminder of what happens when someone tries to be a hero."

The man with the long sword didn't look so sure and waved his hand away, the man with the dagger moved off, the sick glint of want still in his eyes. "What do you think, slave?" The swordsman asked relaxing his pressure at Jason's neck, "Should we leave you to die in the rocks for all to see?" He pulled his hair back once again so his eyes faced the stars "Or would it be better to prolong your pain?" Jason looked defiantly at him.

"So hero, which will it be?" The swordsman asked. He waited for a beat before lowering the sword and pushing Jason forward. "Speak!" He commanded.

Jason coughed into the sandy soil before saying the truth. He had nothing to hide and nowhere to run to, and nothing to lose. "I was just looking for my friend."

The man with the dagger looked appalled and angrily rushed up to Jason before kicking him; hard. "That is your answer; you are looking for your friend? Let's just kill him now…" But the swordsman halted the younger slaver and pulled Jason to his feet.

"What happened to your friend?" He asked pulling Jason so he was face to face with him. This close Jason could see the scars around the man's lips, the tight mouth a thin band across yellowing teeth, small black eyes and a large nose. His breath was stale and the hint of tobacco was on his breath but no wine was hinted at. The man shook him hard and Jason replied quickly, "we were separated in the line-up this morning."

"Don't lie to me boy, no one has friends here. Where are you from boy?" The swordsman asked, face still very close to Jason and Jason watched as the man's eyes racked his body in the half fire light.

"Atlantis." Jason replied. The swordsman shook his head. There was a pause only highlighted by the frustrated heavy breathing of the small man with the dagger. The swordsman seemed to be making a decision.

"I know you boy, don't I?" The swordsman said looking carefully at Jason and his necklace. Jason shook his head though he knew as soon as his name was spoken the man would realise he was the famed hero from Atlantis.

After a long minute of staring at Jason, trying to place him, the swordsman finally turned to his little companion and told the dagger clad slaver, "This one is for the master." The younger man looked disappointed and sheathed the dagger before starting to stalk off. The swordsman grabbed Jason by the hair and made him walk in front of him. Marching him away from the small fire and the cage carts towards the row of tents with the biggest fires Jason was frog marched until they reached a large tent at the back of the camp with two guards outside the entrance. Jason was thrust harshly inside.

The tent was larger than any tent Jason had ever been in. It was sparsely furnished but had drapes of fine material around it and a large plush make shift mattress in the middle of the room with fine covers and silks. From the ceiling however hung a pair of handcuffs on a long chain and Jason realised that this were matched by a pair of ankle ones on either side of the bed. He froze with sudden dread and anticipation.

The slaver chuckled when he entered behind Jason and pushed him around the mattress and out the other side of the tent towards a smaller one. "All in good time, my dear." He said with untold lust creeping into his voice. "But tonight you will be clean and refreshed."

Jason was pushed into the smaller tent and it took a few minutes to realise that the man hadn't followed him. He looked up and his gaze was met by a young man's.

The young man smiled at Jason and gestured him to sit down. Jason shook his head, he wanted answers. He was cold, tired and miserable and worried he had become the play thing of a slave trader. The young man seemed to see this conflict and spoke quietly and carefully.

"I know you have questions. I'm Telemachus and I like you am far from home. You must sit and rest, please we have fruit and water and a clean bed to spend the night in. I will answer all your questions in the morning."

Telemachus gestured to the four beds at the back of the tent and there lying on the bed furthest to the right was Pythagoras.

The tent's light wasn't the brightest, with dancing shadows on the linen back like a shadow theatre projecting monsters for children's imaginations. Like a great hydra snaked its way across the back of the tent, great shadowed neck cascading down towards the floor, the wind gave the tent a more sinister air than it otherwise would have. It was a small tent with four beds, or sacks of straw compacted down with sheets of cotton across them to give the imitation of beds, laid out in regular integers along the back of the tent, there was a low stall with a bowl of water on it and another low stall with a tray of bread and fruit upon it. To the unconcerned eye this tent was innocent and contained the comforts of any travelling party, to a high standard. But upon closer look the three inhabitants of this tent where on edge and seemed to be there against their wills. To make things starker a contrast two of the men sitting down on one of the beds both had their ankles manacled together. One leant down to knell beside the third man who was seemingly asleep in the further bed to the right.

"What happened to him?" Jason asked, taking the cloth from the bowl of cool water that was sitting on the floor beside the bed. He gave it a quick squeeze and then placed it on the younger man's forehead. There wasn't a reaction from this man and Jason felt his heart clench. It had been less than a few hours that Jason had been separated from Pythagoras and in that time the young mathematician had gone from aware and ill to unresponsive and deathly sick. The other man in the tent, who had called himself Telemachus, was watching the pair with great concern.

He was a small man, and Jason guessed he couldn't be more than eighteen, merely a boy, a thought to himself. He was well built however and dressed in simple tunic and trousers and Jason couldn't help but note that they were of finer quality than his or Pythagoras'. What Jason noted most though was that this young man knew more what was going on than he did.

"We made camp, while the slave sorting was happening and the master always gets first pick of the slaves he wishes to keep or dispose of…" Telemachus trailed off. Jason couldn't help but think that the boy had thought that Pythagoras was in the latter category judging by the state of him. "But then he comes in carrying him," he pointed at Pythagoras with a hint of envy, "and tells me to clean him up. So I washed him, and tended to his wounds, gave him water and some healing herbal remedy. But I don't know whether he will make it through the night."

Jason looked down at Pythagoras. His skin was grey and was no longer sweating just wet with a faint mist, he looked thinner and his breathing was shallower than before. Jason held Pythagoras' hand harder. He didn't want the young man to die. But maybe it would be kinder.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name?" Telemachus said slowly.

"Jason," Jason replied not taking his eyes from his friend, "and his name is Pythagoras." Telemachus nodded and withdrew back to sitting on the bed.

In a low voice Jason asked "what will happen to us?" He said as Telemachus lay back on his bed, turned onto his side facing away from Jason.

"I don't know, but you saw the chains…" for the first time in their meeting the young boy sounded scared and Jason had no questions on whether it was needed as he felt it defiantly was. He was under no false illusions what the chains were for and wished he hadn't seen the glint in the man's eye. What made him feel sicker was the thought that maybe poor Pythagoras would await the same fate. He leaned against the straw bed that Pythagoras lay on and quietly he begged his friend "please Pythagoras, please don't die, don't leave me here."

It was a long night and through it Jason prayed to every god he could name and those he couldn't for Pythagoras to get well, he just needed him to wake up and say something in his measured and logical tone and for him to tell Jason just how hopeless everything was. Jason also prayed that somewhere Hercules was still alive and looking for them. A sudden flash through his mind of the larger man asleep on the street after drinking too much made Jason half smile and half think that maybe that was what he was doing. Thinking of Atlantis made Jason feel slightly home sick. He thought of the dusty streets, the sandy steps of the town walls, the larger than life temples and tiny hovels of the people who lived in the crowded town. The small apartments that he had come to call home, the small sleeping area and the tiny kitchen, Pythagoras' desk with his work on triangles. Jason let his mind wander down the small roads towards the temple of Poseidon through the market that smelled of exotic fruit, burning meats and cold cuts, live farm animals, blood and sweat and grime. The noises of children and happy people, the cry of street sellers, everything had become too familiar and comfortable. Jason, on the edge of sleep, let his mind wonder further and images of modern day London merged with that of Atlantis. He saw cars on the streets and people in suits walking alongside those in the Greek attire. He saw the odd shop he remembered as he walked to the temple in all its glory. He walked quickly to it before walking inside where the ceiling felt smaller than he remembered it being and he had to crawl, calling out to the oracle he ventured into the dark. Suddenly he heard a voice answering him.

"JASON!"

But he couldn't see anything it was dark and suffocating warm, he tried to scratch at his neck, it was sore and something was attacking it.

"JASON!"

The voice was getting louder. The darkness was starting to lighten to white and in front of his eyes was the oracle holding a knife to Pythagoras' neck. Jason took a deep breath and tried to run forward, but his throat caught and he couldn't move. The oracle's eyes were ablaze with red fire and she looked deep into Jason's soul. Echoing in a screamed whisper she just said "soon," and drew the blade across Pythagoras' neck.

Jason awoke suddenly, breathing heavily to find Telemachus shaking him and a pair of scared blue eyes from the pair looking up at him. Pythagoras was at least awake and staring up at him. He scared whisper broke through the silence punctuated only with harsh breaths. "J-Jason what was that?" The mathematician asked slowly.

Jason blinked hard ignoring Telemachus and his worried expression. Instead he brushed the sleep from his eyes with a brush from his slightly grimy sleeve and looked at his friend. Pythagoras was staring back, wide blue eyes glinting with a faint veil of unshed tears, his blue eyes like the ocean, mixed with green and they seemed to swirl bordered with red. His face, though pale and grey was tinted with pink, a sign he was making some type of recovery. But the expression on his face was that of scared horror; had he seen what Jason had seen? Had he seen a vision of the future? Or had Jason just had a nightmare and thrashed too violently until his ill friend woke beside him?

After staring back for a minute, Jason gathered his senses and brushed the side of Pythagoras' face gently, turning quickly to Telemachus to bring water. "It's ok; everything is going to be ok." He said stupidly. Pythagoras looked unimpressed, but chose that moment to cough, a very dry cough that screamed volumes of his dehydration. Telemachus passed Jason the bowl of clean water and he held it to Pythagoras' face carefully. "Slowly." He instructed.

Within forty minutes Jason was happy with the amount of water Pythagoras had taken and was happy to let the young mathematician doze on the make shift bed. Telemachus looked on as Jason eased the young man's forehead with a cool cloth.

"You care a great deal for him. I can see that in the way you act, the look in your eyes, it is like the way a husband looks after his wife."

Jason paused. Maybe that was how he cared for Pythagoras, but it did not deter him.

"We must look after one another in difficult times." He said simply. Finishing his task and rising slightly to rest on the bed beside Pythagoras'. Telemachus came and sat down beside him.

"It is more than that. He is strong and his exhaustion will pass. But you care most deeply for your beloved." Jason turned to Telemachus to see the young man looking into the distance with a sad look in his eyes. Jason decided to take pity on the young man, whom he realised hadn't slept all night and must be exhausted. Jason let the term 'beloved' hang in the air like the elephant in the room it was. This was not the time or place to re-evaluate his relation with anyone especially his best friend who a few hours ago looked like he was to take a trip across to Hades. Jason knew that he had no sexual attraction to Pythagoras. He loved him, as the genius he was, but he did not require or desire any sexual pleasure from the young man.

But Jason wasn't completely without cultural background. He knew that beloved was used to describe great warriors and their young man friends. It was acceptable for him, as a straight male to have a beloved, and that was enough of an explanation Jason needed. Ariadne flashed across his thoughts suddenly and Jason felt the pangs of desire for her, and realised that this was purely friendly he felt for Pythagoras. His pondering was stopped when Telemachus gave a short yawn which he tried to sniffle.

"Why don't you sleep my young friend?" He tried, it must be nearly dawn and Jason could only image what the future would bring in the bed chamber with the chains and the slave traders in the camp around them. Telemachus however just shook his head.

"I could not sleep, for I am too awake." He said smiling as brightly as he could but it did not touch his eyes, instead he looked more exhausted. Jason nodded and made to lie on his bed facing Pythagoras but he could still see Telemachus.

Resting his neck on his arm and enjoying the relaxation of the tension that had gathered across his neck and shoulders, Jason tried to relax. Happy that Pythagoras was better hydrated and sleeping peacefully, Jason turned to concentrate on Telemachus who had brought his legs to his arms and was resting his head on his knees.

"Ok, Telemachus, tell me about yourself then. Do you have a beloved?"

* * *

><p>Hercules distrusted the men he had fallen in with. They were thieves and bandits for better use of a term. None of them belonged anywhere. All stateless, leaderless and needing a place to call their own was the way Hercules called them, but at this moment he was no better.<p>

Currently, the men were camped against the fringe of the forest that you could see the fires of Atlantis from. Away from the harshness of the desert and with cover from other thieves and bandits it was the perfect place to camp this night. The men were heading to Atlantis for the slave market that was to take place there in a few days' time. Hercules knew that was where he would find Pythagoras and Jason so travelled with his unsavoury new friends to have safe passage away from the slavers. Hercules bitterly regretted his actions when he and the other had been attacked. It had been too fast, one moment they had been travelling slowly back towards Atlantis, minor errand completely, when they had been attacked.

Hercules remembered trying to defend Pythagoras. He loved the boy most fiercely and couldn't bear to think of him injured or in pain. But they were set upon by men with swords on every side and hopelessly outnumbered, Hercules was ashamed to admit. The next thing he knew both Jason and Pythagoras were either shackled and dragged to their knees, like Jason, or eyes closed and dumped unconscious, like Pythagoras on a cart and Hercules was left for dead, bleeding and seeing double. It was obvious that the slavers didn't want the larger, older man and had just left him exposed in the desert. Hercules didn't know how long he had lain on the ground watching the blistering sun make her arch across the sky and the coldness of the night draw about him. He had never felt such deep despair. Watching the stars roll across the sky he knew this was it. He had lost everything; his home, his friends, he wouldn't see Medusa again and he had failed Pythagoras. Resigned to his fate and praying quietly to the god of the underworld that he could wait for Pythagoras on the shores of the Styx where they could cross together. He prayed the same for Medusa adding that she live a full life and he added Jason as well just in case he died before Pythagoras. Though in his heart he knew that slave traders only sold the strongest captors and everyone else went to the salt mines. He had let his mind drift as he heard the sounds of wolves and he laid waiting for death to come.

But death never came.

Instead he felt hands on him as they searched his body. As a hand reached further down, Hercules had to do something. Body tackling the intruder he forced himself on top of them to find a young woman was searching him.

Hercules had recognised her from the minute he had laid eyes on her. And she him, but they hadn't spoken about it; only moved towards Atlantis together. An unspoken truce as soon as she had said "I must protect Jason."

She was small, well built, had dark hair and was struggling in his grip. He let go to find himself threatened with a knife. It was obvious however this was for their mutual benefit.

Even with their questionable travelling companions she held her own. Hercules had told her his story and she hers, both were looking for people who were to be traded. But Hercules was cautious he knew what she was and what she could do.

He knew Pythagoras would have laughed at him being so careful around this woman but Hercules had a feeling and he didn't trust her. And it all started when he had seen the contents of her herb bag hanging from her hip. It was small and black, leather with a fine chain holding it together, and had thin script curling around it. Hercules had only seen writing like that on the side of temples and he couldn't read it. He didn't trust anything he couldn't read.

He usually left Pythagoras to do the decoding of foreign languages but he even knew that it was the language that only priests used. Thoughts of women and religion worried Hercules and had done since his run in with both the priestess of Dionysius and the witch Circe.

And this woman was a witch. Hercules planned to keep a distance from her just in case. But like the miss trust he had felt originally with Jason he tried his hardest to not alert his saviour or her travelling partners. Instead he watched the horizon and prayed to all the gods that he would make it back to Atlantis in one piece.

Hercules looked out across the valley to see the first light of the breaking day shimmering across the sky. The woman sat down beside him and handed him a bowl of warm water.

"Drink, for we have a long day ahead of us." She said eating a date from a terracotta plate, painted with a black pattern. She was dressed simply. A thin tunic with a small pattern sewn into the side, light leggings and brown leather boots, tied up with long laces and she wore her long hair in a ponytail with a single braid on the right side of her head. Hercules took a deep mouthful of the water and swallowed loudly.

Sighing he asked "What is to become of us?" The woman seemed to pick up on his mood.

"We are to be victors and to enter the gates of Atlantis and to reclaim that is ours. And Hercules you are to help us." Hercules looked at startled he hadn't given his name. He had been very careful not to give his name.

"And why would I help you?" He asked carefully and the woman smiled.

"The goddess answered many of my questions, as she will yours." She said. Hercules knew how to play this one and tried to turn on the charm.

"And what would happen if I just killed you in your sleep?" He said trying to add a small smile in his statement and a hint of truth upon his lips; he had thought about it and wasn't afraid to act on it. The woman smiled, popping another date into her mouth.

"You flatter yourself with images of strength and power, Jason couldn't kill me and I don't believe you will." She said looking at the dawning day. Hercules turned to her and pushed her fallen bangs from her face roughly before she shook off his hand.

"You need me Hercules, because Jason won't survive without me." She said and she faced him sitting up to full height, she rearranged her posture so she was taller than Hercules, and she breathed out, puffing out her chest so her breasts looked large. She bit her lip and asked in a small voice, that Hercules did not think a woman who had saved his life call manage, "I can save Medusa."

Hercules grabbed her arms and lifted her to his lap, grabbing her roughly and clawing her arm in a tight embrace. "Don't test my promise of killing you! You have no idea what that name does to me!". He growled frustration and hatred in his voice. She flicked her hair and looked into his eyes, touching the side of his face, as though she was going to kiss him. Hercules felt his pulse quicken and a wash of feelings he hadn't felt in a long time; lust and frustration building in his chest as he entertained images of making this witch scream. But as suddenly as it came it was taken again as the woman forced him to the floor, the bowl smashing and the left over water falling to the floor. She straddled him and took at a small dagger resting it on his chest.

"You are as pathetic as the day I rescued you. I am a princess. I am a priestess and have more knowledge of the world than you. I, Medea will crush you if you try anything. I will take everything you love; I have seen your past and a hint of your future. And I can change everything you know."

She pushed him down and cut a small slice across his cheek. "By your blood, you may think you are free but in reality you are now as much a slave and captive as the one I seek."

She pushed him down and rose, shouting to the other men. "We will stay here another day, bring me an animal to sacrifice to the goddess."

She turned to leave, with Hercules still on the floor. Medea took a few steps and then as though she had come up with something else to say she turned to Hercules, "I have business in Atlantis and I know you are the key to the one I seek."


	2. Chapter 2

Star Dust

Notes: Bad stuff happens to Pythagoras in this chapter, heed warning for non con.

**Chapter 2**

Telemachus returned to the tent later that day to find both Jason and Pythagoras reclining together on a bed. They seemed happy in one another's company and Telemachus was happy of this. He knew how lonely this journey had been as a slave to the master. He himself as he had explained to Jason had been taken many months ago and since then many moons had passed. He had only his master for company and his experience had not been kind. His master was cruel and the two men who had gone before Jason and Pythagoras had been so broken and scared that he found little comfort in their company. He had not mentioned these two men to his new companions as he didn't want to answer any questions on what their role in life now was.

His master hadn't been kind when he had asked.

Kneeling on the ground in the chamber where his master took his food, he had asked about the fate of the two new men. His master had smiled and ran a long calloused hand down his neck and spine, a sickening imitation of gentle caress and his master had said "You are not to speak of my new acquisitions, or of the old ones or you will meet the same fate."

The master's son, a crueller man, with small dark eyes and a fondness for small daggers in the night, gave a small laugh, for it was he who had been the one to finish the last of the two men off. Telemachus feared him more than his master, though he would never tell a soul of this.

Instead his master continued to stroke him until he had turned and been lend over a low stall for his master's pleasure. While his master took his pleasure he was reassured "you however my little prince are for a bigger purpose."

He was let go and walked, slowly, but to the tent in the knowledge that his master was waiting for something. The main slave camp had moved on a day previous but they hadn't gone, instead they were to wait until 'the skinny one' as the master's son called Pythagoras, was recovered enough. Telemachus had noticed a betterment in the young man's self. He had slept a long time and Jason had made him drink lots of water, so much that Telemachus had been forced to get more.

He hadn't told Jason this yet.

There were many things that Telemachus would not tell Jason, because he didn't trust him. Trudging into the tent he gave a brief smile to his new tent shares and went to lie on the next bed along.

"How are you today Telemachus?" Pythagoras asked quietly. Concern was lining the side of his face. Telemachus over the past three days had grown to like the light haired man more than Jason, as he was kind and always tried to get the subject matter on brighter things.

"I'm very well, if a little tired. My master works me very hard." Telemachus replied and Pythagoras got up from where he was laying on Jason and grabbed a tray of food that Telemachus himself had brought this morning to the men.

"Here, eat, please, let me get you some water." The thin man said with a bright smile that touched the black pupil of his eyes. And before Telemachus could say no Pythagoras grabbed a jug from the table and left the tent his chained ankles clinking together as he walked to the tent with the water within it.

"Your friend is too kind." Telemachus said to Jason who had been watching the scene. But Jason wasn't paying any attention to him but was doing something with his chains. Telemachus (whose chains were only on his wrists and did not make any noise when he moved) looked over to find that Jason had a small metal implement that he was using to pull apart the chains keeping his feet restricted.

"Jason, what are you doing?" Pythagoras was back and turned to Telemachus.

"We are going to get out of here, Atlantis isn't far. Come with us." Pythagoras pleaded. He put the jug down and walked to Jason. Who nodded, there was clunk as one of the rings broke. Jason turned to Pythagoras' chains and started work.

Telemachus was unsure. He couldn't even think about an escape attempt. The other men had tried escaping attempts in the early days but he knew this was part of the game. "You can't, they will catch you and do terrible things…" Telemachus suddenly wanted to warn them but his backside ached from the treatment from his master and he remembered the warning he was given. Instead he just settled with begging gently.

"Please don't risk this."

Jason stood up after another clunk as a chain link broke for Pythagoras. "We have to try." And Pythagoras nodded at him, though there was concern upon his face. Telemachus nodded and turned away from them. He didn't want to watch the down fall of these two men.

He had watched bigger men fall, being broken was going to be painful and he could just image how his master was going to do it. He would start with the weaker one, giving him time to be tortured while the other watched and was broken down by work. And then even sold or humiliated into submission. Tears fell done from his eyes and tipped down his face. He pulled the blanket up over his face. He man was worth his tears but maybe two men were.

He didn't want the two men discussing when to make their break for it to see him cry and he let himself drift until he was asleep.

Hours later he awoke to a darken tent which was completely empty. What had awoken him was the sound of screaming and shouting and dogs barking. Telemachus shuddered and pulled the blankets tighter fearing the worst.

* * *

><p>Dusk is a wonderful thing. It gives a scene mystery, yet still enough light to be able to see what you are doing. It is the time when romantic stories are told as well as horror stories giving it both the scary and the mystery feel that a good story needs. This was what Jason noted as he waited for the sun to set and for the lamps and fires to a lighted, and for a misty haze to gather across the desert making the fires of the city they lay in the shadow of to dance like far away stars. He and Pythagoras had discussed this plan to the detail but he assumed like many plans of theirs before this wasn't going to end well. And he knew they were both horribly outnumbered, with no weapons, no chance of back up and he had the sense that maybe this was doomed. Jason's dreams of late had been disturbing with them always ending with the oracle of Atlantis. She would stand in her blue robes, with wild hair and piercing eyes holding Pythagoras by the throat with a knife against it. Jason was always struck by how calm his friend looked, and on the third night Jason had tried calling out to him. Nothing had changed. Instead the priestess had uttered "soon" and slowly pulled the blade across Pythagoras' throat. That was always when Jason woke up. Unable to sleep any more he had taken to watching over Telemachus, the younger boy of whom had become very quiet once his serving duties, as he called them, had started or just simply watching Pythagoras sleep.<p>

Pythagoras had made a wonderful recovery. For which Jason would always be in Telemachus' debt over as would Pythagoras he had come up with this plan. Once Pythagoras was strong enough they would make their escape. He hoped they would get further away and be half way to Atlantis before anyone noticed. Pythagoras had said to take the younger boy with them but he had refused. So they waited.

And now was the moment.

Jason watched as the night guards at the master's tent changed for the night and the fire in the tent was lowered in height for the night. He shook Pythagoras from his sleep and blew out the candle in their tent. With one more check that Telemachus had dropped off to sleep after what seemed like crying himself to sleep and they were having one last check around. The camp was very quiet as Jason made a path out into the open avoiding being seen by the guards. Pythagoras was behind him his breathing steady.

They made their way slowly through the camp and around the back of the soldier's tent. Jason signalled for Pythagoras to keep back as he dodged the shadows and moved to another area. Hidden in the shadows Jason watched more men enter the tent. They looked like paid body guards but Jason knew that in Atlantis the tattoos that these men had were the symbols of a cult. What cult he could not say, but only cult members had tattoos.

He looked around and saw a hiding place by the cliff; signalling for Pythagoras to follow Jason quickly run to the shadowed alcove and crouched down to the see his next challenge. This was the row of fires that circled the camp. This was to keep wild animals and other unsavoury characters from entering the camp. There was a guard between each fire. Keeping to the shadows wasn't going to be an option. All Jason could do was wait.

Pythagoras joined Jason, and leaned heavily against him. Jason could feel the younger man's heart rabbiting in his chest. Good, Jason thought the shot of adrenalin would keep him going. Checking once again he turned to Pythagoras and placed a finger to his lips indicating quiet. Pythagoras nodded, his head brushing Jason's shoulder. Jason edged forward stopping only once as the flame of the nearest fire flickered in the sudden breeze. This made Jason's shadow dance extremely large for all to see; as his monster form danced happily across the sand. Carefully he edged past the guard whom seemed to be sleeping and broke for cover. Running fast and straight he made for the darkness of the ragged rocks about one hundred meters from where they were camped. Breathing hard to keep himself going in a desperate make for freedom.

The blue tint of the sand reflected up at him as a crashed to a stop, amazed he had got this far without being seen and he sent a quick pray to any god who was on his side. Turning back he gestured for Pythagoras to follow him. He could see the thinner man where he was hiding by the tents on the inside of the camps.

Pythagoras nodded and edged forward. He was shaking slightly and his hands felt sweaty as he crept out into the open. Jason could see the guards between the fires where paying no attention to his companion and he prayed that they could go without being noticed. Pythagoras edged closer to the fire, his shadow long and stretched out on the blue sand. Carefully he made it past the fire and broke out into a direct run. Jason felt his heart in his mouth as he watched Pythagoras run for where he was hiding when a yell broke from the camp.

"Don't let him escape!"

It was the thin younger man with the dagger who not three days ago wanted to split Jason in half for fun with his small dagger. Pythagoras turned his eyes flashing in fear and Jason saw deep fear but also that is being resigned to his fate. The younger man turned from where he was running and changed direction away from Jason's hiding place. He was going to save Jason, the dark haired man realised. This was Jason's chance to get further away and Pythagoras was giving Jason that chance.

Jason's heart was hammering in his own chest, panic was rising in his throat, this wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to save Pythagoras not Pythagoras save him. He saw himself as a hero, strong and talented. Not Pythagoras of whom he saw as the damsel in distress, someone who needed saving.

But shouldn't he go back and be heroic? Should he just save himself or get re captured? Many questions clouded his vision and his mind and he couldn't think. Instead, Jason just stayed where he was hidden from view, watching in horror as his best friend was chased down the valley by four dogs and a mad man who once Pythagoras was on the floor punched him hard in the face and then dragged him up by the neck of his shirt.

The excitement over the other men retreated into the camp again leaving Jason in the cold outside in the desert. Jason felt cold inside and was suddenly very aware that he had made the wrong decision.

He was supposed to be a hero, he had a great destiny, that's what the Oracle had told him and he had just sat there like a rock. He was just as use as the rocks that gave him cover from the slavers. He had chosen himself and he knew Pythagoras would suffer for it. Suddenly the dreams made sense. The image of the oracle, reminding him of his destiny and the barrier that Pythagoras was standing there for him to choose. And he had chosen.

Deep down he knew he had to go back; he had to rescue his friend. But instead he had stayed put, and let Pythagoras save him instead of how it should be. And Jason was thankful that Pythagoras had used his logic to make at least one of them survive.

Jason vowed to himself right there that he would save Pythagoras. He would make the math's genius come back to him, and he would be damned if he didn't get the mathematician to live up to his claim to fame. Boring thousands of children for years to come Jason had told him when they first met and he couldn't do that crouched hiding like a scared child from behind a rock. Making his legs move, Jason edged away from the camp and headed to the glinting city of Atlantis. He needed a plan and in his mind he was slowly coming up with one, but he would need some help.

His thoughts turned to the princess of Atlantis. She would help him, he was certain. And with that thought Jason pushed into the night heading towards the woods to the right of Atlantis were he could enter the city without being seen and travel through the day.

Walking through the night was cold going.

Jason hadn't given his escape attempt much thought past the actual escaping. Pythagoras had the water bottle and a small knife, he realised guiltily. The younger man was always better equipped and better organised when Jason led them into this situations. So Jason soon felt tired, thirsty and hungry. Stopping for a quick nap Jason found a small covered cave under a tree roots. Gnarled and ancient he ignored the beetles and snakes that hung from the tree and leaned against a cleaner stretch of trunk to rest his eyes.

No sooner had Jason closed his eyes then a vision, or dream filtered into his mind. He saw through mist, Pythagoras on a low bed, chained and crying, and a woman beside him. She seemed to ignore Pythagoras but made for Jason himself, pulling him in for a kiss, pushing herself to him.

Jason jerked awake wiping the sweat away from his face he breathed heavily. Jason pulled himself up and away from the tree and continued on his way trying to ignore his obvious arousal and pressed on through the woods.

Less than a mile from where Jason was stumbling towards the city of Atlantis, the witch Medea woke from a dream where she had.

* * *

><p>Hercules ate the berries he had found on a nearby bush carefully. It hadn't be a month since the last bout of food poisoning of which Jason had told him it was because no one cooked their meat properly in Atlantis and 'where he was from' they washed the food first and made sure meat was cooked through. Hercules had come to realise that when Jason said 'where he came from' he was going to say something about how things were strange and not the norm, like Hercules knew. It was like when the young girl next door had given birth and died from bleeding out. Jason had mentioned taking her to a doctor and if they had been 'where he was from' she would have been taken to a hospital. Hercules had told Jason that the gods would see to it. Though in his currently situation maybe 'where Jason was from' held a better way of living than leaving everything up to the gods. Pythagoras never argued with Jason over his, in Hercules' opinion, loose belief in the gods and Hercules assumed this was because the boy had an unfailing belief in logic and reason. Hercules had to admit that when it came to the situation where he was eating unknown berries maybe that was a good thing and maybe Pythagoras was brushing off on Hercules slightly. Hercules checked the berry and looked it over, there wasn't anything foul smelling about nor was it green. Carefully he placed it in his mouth and it was fine, if a little sharp.<p>

But the truth was that he was hungry. Dates and berries wouldn't keep him going for long. The only meat that the small company had found the witch Medea, (or was she a princess?) Hercules couldn't keep up; was used for an offering to the goddess, Hera.

Hercules had no problems with offerings to the gods but the witch had prayed with hands raised to the heavens and drained the blood onto the floor before a small altar. Muttering words which Hercules couldn't understand though the few men in the company, such as Marcus the pickpocket and Gaius the butcher turned murderer told Hercules that she was speaking a new tongue and not an old one as Hercules had assumed. The new tongue was a dialect of Greek that apparently had a written script. That explained how Hercules couldn't read the writing that was sewn into Medea's clothes or the writing that snaked up her foot and curled her ankle before heading up towards her body. Hercules didn't know the extent but he didn't want his imagination to go that far.

The ceremony had been a small one with the few men in the company and the witch had offered them nothing to pray to Hera. Instead she prayed in this new language which Gaius had told Hercules that the oracle at the temple of Hera in Helios had told him that it was language that many stories would be told for years to come. Hercules wasn't so impressed. As much as once upon a time he wanted to be a hero from those of old he was quite happy to just listen to them and not take part in them. Well that had been the plan before Jason and this craziness had started. The blood had poured and the little wine the witch had was poured in with the blood.

Praying in her new language, Hercules had watched as the blood turned clear and before his eyes and to the astonishment of both Hercules and the men around him, flashes and images were reflected in the blood.

Hercules saw Atlantis, he saw fire, he saw fire in the temple of Poseidon, he saw the witch's face reflected out and he saw the screaming faces of people in the city of Atlantis. Then the image changed and he saw Pythagoras' face crying and then the image changed to Jason and the witch Medea and Jason was holding a sword to the neck of someone… it was just a flash and it was suddenly gone.

The witch had uttered something in the new language and grabbed her sword swearing all of them to never speak of what they had seen. But Hercules could see what she had seen had affected her. She had stormed away leaving the bewildered men to spend the day waiting for more instructions. So Hercules found himself sitting eating the berries wishing they were moving on. He was sick of forests and wished for the comforts of his small apartment in Atlantis. He could see it in his mind and it kept him quiet and calm. Almost nodded off he was jerked awake by another person sitting down beside him.

Marcus the pickpocket grabbed some berries and relaxed beside Hercules. He was a small man, built much like Pythagoras with a long nose and long fingers the man could easily slip between people and grab things from pockets and cut bags. He was traveling to Atlantis as his last city had a warrant out for his arrest and the punishment for him to lose his hand. Understandably he was running. Ina low voice the man asked Hercules quietly, "What did you see in the blood?"

He took another bite of a hand full of berries only to spit them out claiming they were too sour. Hercules just shook his head "I didn't see anything, though I think the woman did." He said trying not to give anything away in his expression.

Marcus smiled "I gathered that, thought I saw a prison guard in the blood, but I think I'm losing my mind to the boredom of waiting in these trees." Hercules nodded, he knew the feeling though he was now questioning that what he saw in the blood had actually been vision of the future.

"Must have been, I myself cannot wait to be gone from this place, Atlantis is so far but so near as well." Hercules concluded and the other man smiled.

"Atlantis is your home, and soon to be mine as well!" He said picking up a few rocks on the ground and throwing them a way off. They landed on the ground just as Medea walked towards the two men.

She looked at the rocks and suddenly turned drawing her dagger. As she turned someone came crashing through the trees and bushes. A ball of limbs, legs and arms flailing in the air until they came to a stop and Medea was on top of their unknown attacker. Hercules, however, mused that the could be assailant was more surprised than any attacker he had ever seen.

Medea pinned the man to the ground with her thighs aside him. The red mist of the want to kill passed from her eyes and she looked down just as her arm made the fateful arch downwards to strike the man; and she stopped dead.

Hercules got to his feet as did Marcus and together they walked over to the witch and her captive. Both woman and man on the floor dared not move as they both looked at one another frozen in shock. Hercules let out a sign of relief as he saw that the man was Jason.

He looked very dirty and sweaty. There was a small cut on his cheek and the tell-tale bags under his eyes betrayed the lack of sleep. The worst thing about this situation though was the startled look on his face, as though he had seen the shade of someone dead.

Had Jason seen what Hercules had seen in the blood? Had Medea? Eyes fixed on the witch, Jason hadn't seen Hercules so he addressed him, breaking the spell that had befitted the scene.

"Jason, about time you showed up." Hercules said trying to act as normal as possible. Jason broke eye contact with the witch for a second and realisation came back to his face. He breathed out in relief, though Hercules hoped it wasn't too soon.

"Hercules, I thought you were dead." He said as the woman on top of him moved the dagger to threaten him again. She turned to Hercules quickly "Hercules, what is going on?"

Hercules was surprised how calm both Medea and Jason where being, both where glaring daggers at one another and Jason addressed Hercules but didn't take his eyes from the woman who had almost killed his true love.

"Jason, Medea here is going to help us get back to Atlantis." Hercules said in a measured tone. Jason's calm was starting to slip towards black hate, his face was betraying him.

"How and why are you travelling with her?" He spat, seemingly forgetting that the witch had her dagger to his throat.

"Jason, it's a long story but you have to trust her, as Medea has to trust you, so we can get to Atlantis."

H just nodded. This seemed to reassure Medea who looked like all her plans had suddenly become clearer. She clambered off of Jason and put her dagger away.

"We are heading for Atlantis, you are welcome to travel with us." She said. And with a flip of her hair she stalked off into the woods. Jason looked expressly confused and collapsed back breathing out in an exaggerated manner.

Hercules offered Jason a hand to pull himself to sitting. "Are you alright?" Hercules asked as Marcus passed their new companion a bowl of water. Jason drank greedily. It had been a long time since he had taken any water, not since he had ran from the camp. He drank and then nodded. "I was heading for Atlantis, I need help, and they took Pythagoras." He breathed out shakily; he couldn't tell Hercules that he had left his best friend to the mercy of a slaver. This was kinder than the truth. Hercules bowed his head. His face showing how heartbroken he was knowing that Pythagoras was gone.

"Did he die well?" He asked at length. Jason was astounded and shook his head.

"He isn't dead, Hercules. We… we were captured by slave traders… I escaped…" Hercules raised a hand and nodded his head. Jason took another large mouthful of water and savoured the warmth in his mouth.

"Then, we must get him back." Hercules said. "Where were they headed? The slavers when you escaped?"

Jason pondered. "Atlantis I think."

"Then we must go to Atlantis and find Pythagoras before he is sold." Hercules said. "And luckily…" He said rising from the floor. "We are heading to Atlantis with our favourite witch, there."

Jason pulled himself up to shaky feet. "Hercules, we can't trust her, I should of seen the dreams I've been having… something bad is coming…"

* * *

><p>The tent was very warm. It had been a scorching hot day with the summer sun beating down hard on the tent's roof. The dry heat rolled off of the sides of the linen roof and made the interior sweltering, sticky on skin and unbearable to think or move. It was humid in the tent due to the boiling hot stones that had been added to water to create a spa like atmosphere, making a slight haze across the tent, making everything feel hotter. The bed in the middle of the room had its linen changed from beige to the colour of red satin. There was a silver jug on a low stall with a plate of cut up apple beside it. A long feather, a cane and a small vile of oil where positioned on another low stall beside them, looking intimidating and aching for attention, which the only occupant in the room was staring at with scared eyes. He was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists. What had started as an unbearable ache across his shoulders was now a throb and constant pain and movement brought little comfort. In fact any movement at all pulled and irritated every part of poor Pythagoras' shoulders, wrists and arms. He muscles were sore from the struggling he had done as he had been forced into these restraints and ached from the pressure of them forced above his head for hours.<p>

No one had come to relieve him or extend this nightmare. All he could do was ponder what the future had in store and prayed that maybe the god of fortune would look kindly on him. Though that hadn't seemed the case as seen in recent events, Pythagoras thought grimly.

Sweat dripped off of him as he tried moving his arms again. It had occurred to the mathematician early on that if he slumped forward or tried to relieve the pressure on his arms then he had to stand directly upright and stretch up and if he fell forward he would strain his arms even further. Every position was painful and he soon realised that his wrists would be completely blue from lack of blood. As testament to this he had long since lost feelings in his hands and movement just felt numb.

The curtain of tent was pulled back and a breeze washed across the tent making Pythagoras shiver as a man entered the tent. He was only wearing a pair of trousers and a light jacket, much like Pythagoras' own grey jumper. He strode in and surveyed the helpless man with a quick smile.

He walked in front of Pythagoras and surveyed his naked apparel. He then turned to the apple of the low stall and selected a piece before bringing it to Pythagoras' lips.

"Eat, I know you must be hungry." He said with a slightly accented voice. To hand feed the piece of apple to the restrained man and then another and then two more. The confused expression on Pythagoras' face had registered as the man spoke again during the act of feeding him the third piece of apple.

"I don't like it when my slaves disobey me. And for that they must be put in their rightful place." The man smiled and Pythagoras swallowed the last piece. The man watched his captive's throat and then surveyed his body.

"You are young, beautiful and full of life, therefore I won't punish you in ways that will damage your appearance as I find it appealing." The man ran a single finger down Pythagoras' back as he climbed around on the bed. "However, I will use you how I see fit." He said and as to draw the point home he gripped from behind Pythagoras' cock and squeezed issuing a gasp and intake of breath from Pythagoras. The man let go and continued to slide a finger further around Pythagoras, passing it up towards his arse.

"I am your master now, slave and you will address me as such." He said in the young man's ear, his warm breath and touch together making Pythagoras feel incredibly uncomfortable. "Who do you belong to slave?" He said turned Pythagoras in his restrains to face him.

Pythagoras looked him straight in the eye. "I belong to myself." He said before the man backhanded him hard across the face.

"Don't think yourself special, my dear," he said venom in his tone. "I may not want to disfigure you, but pretty bruises on you might make others more likely to want to fuck you."

Pythagoras was suddenly afraid again. "No…please…" He started before the man shushed him and cupped his face that was still stinging.

"None of that, now, later maybe…I want you to beg me later…" The man turned to the low stall and picked up the cane which he ran his hands along lovingly.

"Now shall we learn who you belong to?"

He returned to the restrained man and took the cane and ran it along the curve of Pythagoras' back. The man felt a shiver go through him, but at the same time felt defiant. Pythagoras didn't want to lose himself or play this sadist game. He felt scared and uncomfortable, hurt and humiliated.

A sudden whisk of air and then a blinding pain shot through his backside as the cane made its long arch down to impart a thin red stripe to the young man's back. Pythagoras' breath caught and he breathed through his teeth in pain.

The cane was pulled back and a finger was run along the red stripe. "So beautiful, my pretty slave… I can't wait until it is bruised, sensitive and blistered. These marks of my ownership look so good on your back." Pythagoras shook his head.

No, he wouldn't give in; he wouldn't lose himself to the pain and give this man what he wanted. Another hit with the wicked rod and Pythagoras felt tears rush to his eyes. "Now, pretty slave… tell me who you belong to…"

Pythagoras shook his head but as he did so he felt wetness across his backside, turning his head in fear he saw the man bent over his back licking the redness on his arse. Pythagoras gasped out loud, the pain subsiding slightly. "Please… st-…" He began as the man dipped his head further down. Pythagoras closed his eyes and breathed out through gritted teeth, willing his body not to react, instead to focus on the violation of the act.

The licking stopped and another strike was added to the two on his lower back, this time Pythagoras cried out.

* * *

><p>Ariadne looked out from the palace balcony at the parade of slaves that was entering the city. There were cheers, shouts, jeers and the sound of marching feet echoing up to her from the street below. Everything up here was much louder than it should be, she felt and though she often came out here for air, it was very stuffy and the sight of hundreds of people in chains just made her feel sad and uncomfortable. She turned and headed back inside, her long pink robes and dress giving her blessed cool on her legs. She turned to her hand maids and said she did not need their services until the evening and picked up a shall to cover her hair and headed down to the courtyard and the royal entrance to the temple of Poseidon.<p>

Being a princess was very lonely and even if Ariadne was in a group of people she was always set apart from them and it meant she had to echo the reactions and meetings of people from what she observed. Because of this she spent many a day sitting in the temple watching the people of Atlantis bring their worries and their joy to the mighty earth shaker god. She would sit by one of the great pillars on a low bench and watch families, single men, single women, children, old and young, disabled, rich and poor come and pray, meet one another and then leave.

She wished she could be a part of something or at least have someone to talk to who didn't request anything of her. The men who came to the palace only wanted to marry her and the only ladies she ever met were to serve her or to ask her favour. She had been quite alone until she had met Jason.

So she waited in the temple hoping to see him again. But it had been nearly a month and she hadn't seen Jason or his two friends in the city or the temple. It was disappointing and Ariadne feared that Jason had left, met someone or become ill. So she had inquired. But no one seemed to know. So she waited and prayed for his safe return.

Today the temple was extremely quiet when she sat in her usual place. Apart from a recently married couple who held one another like they were the most precious thing in the entire world. No other soul came to the temple for the three hours Ariadne sat and waited.

As the light became dimer she rose to leave and head back to take supper with her father and step mother when she saw her. The oracle was beckoning her to follow her.

Looking around there was no one else, so Ariadne quickly walked across the great temple forecourt and hurried after the oracle. Down the steps to her chambers the princess walked.

The oracle's chambers were dark and damp. They were ancient chambers below the main temple. The story tellers of the streets told their patrons that the chambers had been built by Poseidon himself and that a bull had been scarified on the very floor in which the oracle saw the future on. They spoke about how he had made the temple large and the sacred chambers small so that only those in true need could go into them. Ariadne did not believe these tales, but these dungeons were small and dank and offered little comfort.

Down the steps a small fire was burning in a small candle holder. This was the only light in the chamber which seemed to be empty.

"Oracle?" Ariadne called out. She stepped completely off the steps and into the darkness of the room away from the only light source.

Suddenly she was grabbed on the arm by the old oracle. Ariadne turned in surprise to see the oracle's eyes were completely white.

"She will return to Atlantis tonight." Ariadne breathed out terrified by the whiteness of the oracle's eyes. "She will return, lost for years, driven by grief… none can escape her…"

"Who will return, please oracle I don't understand!" Ariadne said startled and scared, she tried pulling off her grip on her arm but the oracle just held on.

"She will bring great change… none can escape…" The oracle trailed off the pupils of her eyes appearing again. She blinked looking deep into Ariadne's face. "I'm sorry my child." She said moving off to knee on the ground and taking a bowl of rocks throwing them to the ground.

Ariadne followed her. "Please oracle, please tell me…" But the oracle raised a hand.

"My child you must leave the city before it is too late…"


End file.
